The Fabric is Always Greener on the Other Model
by mymanisfictional
Summary: When the (in)famous fashion designer Lovino Vargas needs a new male model, he is surprised when he shifts from cranky Arthur Kirkland to happy-go-lucky Antonio Carriedo. Each of Lovino's designs tells a story, and he has quite a bit to tell when it comes to Antonio.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- Hello, everyone~ I would just like to offer a quick little warning of sorts with this fic. I know very little about the fashion industry (what I do know comes from Project Runway and ANTM), but I also want to make it clear that the way Lovino does things is unorthodox. So if something isn't accurate to how the real world is, don't get angry please, just keep in mind that Lovino is considered the black sheep in the designing world in this fic. **

**Now then, read on!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters!**

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"Damn that fucking American bastard!" the angry Italian spat, throwing a pile of photographs back onto his worktable. His meek assistant cringed a bit at the outburst, although really, the Japanese man should have been used to the man's rash behavior at this point.

"Please calm down, Mr. Vargas," the assistant murmured, his voice calm and soothing.

Lovino Vargas sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He had issues controlling his temper, but he tried to calm down for the sake of his assistant and good friend Kiku. The poor guy dealt with him enough; he shouldn't have to endure Lovino's temper tantrums any more than he already did.

"Sorry, Kiku. It's just that stupid bastard took my best model! You know Arthur Kirkland was the only male model I got along with."

He cursed the photographer Alfred F. Jones for stealing away his number one model. Ever since those two began whatever the hell it was that they had going on, Lovino had gotten a case of designer's block. Arthur had been the inspiration for some of his best clothing lines, such as the punk set, which featured a lot of metal in the form of zippers, chains, and studs; the gentlemanly set that contained looks that could help a man court any lady; and the fantasy set, which was characterized by dreamy colors and extravagant handmade accessories. All of these had brought Lovino one step closer to his brother Feliciano's international fame.

"Well, if it is any comfort to you, Mr. Vargas, I have already begun selecting new candidates for the job," Kiku informed him as he collected the pictures of Lovino's former star model.

"Ugh, it'll be a pain going through so many useless idiots. I might not even find a good one," Lovino grumbled. He glared at his longtime friend and said, "And how many times do I need to tell you to just call me Lovino, dammit?"

"Ah, my apologies, Lovino-kun," the Japanese man said with a quick bow.

The irritable designer cracked a smile and shook his head fondly. The smile quickly turned into a scowl and he asked, "Ah hell, when do I have to start meeting the new models?"

"There are actually a few here already, waiting to meet with you," Kiku told him. He calmly blinked through the string of Italian expletives and waited as Lovino grabbed his clipboard and sweater (a one-of-a-kind gift from his brother) before leading him downstairs to the room that was already filled with a few dozen handsome, eager males. The pair took their seats behind a plain table and got prepared; Kiku pulled out the list of the model's information along with their portfolios, while Lovino just leaned back in his chair and got ready to scare away the pansies.

"Who's first?" he asked.

"Lukas Bondevik," Kiku announced. He repeated the name loud enough for the queue of men to hear and the first one stepped forward and moved in front of their line of vision.

The man was pale, both in skin and hair, but not in an unhealthy way; on the contrary, his fairness made him glow. He sported a cross barrette in his hair- which was flawless except for this one strand of hair that curled off from the rest, similar to Lovino's own (although this man's hair was so light that the curl looked as if it were floating on its own). His eyes were a blue as deep as the ocean, although Lovino thought that more emotion could be seen in the ocean than in watching this man. He stood calmly and quietly, not speaking until spoken to.

"Why the hell should I pick you?" Lovino asked bluntly. Kiku, although a bit embarrassed by this rudeness, let the designer take the reins here.

The Norwegian (as that was what Kiku's thorough research said he was) blinked and looked a bit annoyed. "Must you be so loud?" he asked in a grumble.

"Yes! Now answer the damn question."

The model sighed and replied, "You should choose me because I am good at what I do and have experience."

Lovino frowned. "That's it?"

He nodded in response.

"Next!"

"What?" the pale man asked, looking confused.

"You heard me! Next!"

The Norwegian shook his head, but walked away nonetheless, mumbling something under his breath. Lovino turned to Kiku and waited for the next name, which the Japanese man then called out loudly.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz!"

"Like, oh my gosh, that's me!" came the shout from the line. A blonde with short hair and bright green eyes strutted forward in pink shorts and a white tee. The slim model waved excitedly at Lovino and Kiku, the former of which stared in confusion.

"Excuse me, miss," the Italian began hesitantly. "You are aware that this is a male only audition, right?"

"Well duh," Feliks exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips. "I'm like totally your man for the job!"

"…Next!"

Feliks scowled and flipped his hair back. "You're totally going to wish you had gone for this," he told them, walking back out just as fashionably as he had entered. With a groan, Lovino let his head drop to the table while Kiku called out the next candidate.

Things went on like this for the better part of an hour, man after man being flat out rejected. There were a lucky few who lasted a few minutes into their interviews, but half of those couldn't work with Lovino's attitude and the other half simply didn't cut it in Lovino's book. He needed someone who could inspire him, someone who could wear his clothing as if it were made just for him.

"How many more sorry bastards do I have to sit through?" the Italian muttered crankily. He was tired and so far no model had caught his eye. There was one well-dressed Asian whose eyebrows reminded him of Arthur, but other than that, Lovino didn't care for him. There was another pale man like the Norwegian, and his tousled hair and gentlemanly outfit also made Lovino think of his former model, but that one was turned down just like the rest of them.

"About 20 more, Lovino-kun," Kiku said.

"What?" Lovino exclaimed, shooting up from his seat. He looked at his assistant accusingly. "You told me that there were only few models here, Kiku! You lying bastard, this is taking forever!"

Kiku stood and bowed, quickly trying to appease his friend. "I know, but you wouldn't have agreed to start meeting them if you knew that there was so many," he explained. Lovino grit his teeth, but sat back down, knowing that the smaller man was right. Still, he continued to mutter complaints under his breath.

Once the two were resettled in their seats, Kiku picked up the clipboard and scanned the list for the next name. "Antonio Fernández Carriedo," he read.

"_A Spaniard- just what we were missing_," Lovino thought dryly. "_Well, we've had people from the rest of the world, so why not?"_

Right on cue, a Spanish man bounded forward and stood before the designer team. He smiled at them cheerfully. Lovino found himself leaning forward in his chair to examine this sexy specimen.

Antonio has flawless skin (not too smooth or too rough) that had the perfect sun kissed glow. His hair was a dark, half curly/half wavy mess that seemed to work just right for the casual individual. Where Arthur's eyes had been the deep glow of purloined emeralds and forest leaves, this man's eyes had the ripeness of tomato stalks and the richness of hunter green velvet. When he spoke, his voice was like a rippling pile of silk cushioned with flannel warmth.

"Hola, my name is Antonio Fernández Carriedo, but you can call me Antonio, Toni, or Tonio. Anything is fine with me~" said the Spaniard, the words spilling forth rapidly; his voiced held a hint of an accent that made clear his _patria._

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, idiot," Lovino said, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. "What can you tell us besides your name?"

Antonio seemed to ponder this for a moment before responding, "Well, I guess that not only am I good at what I do, but I'm also willing to devote all of my time to you."

Lovino blinked and eyed the man skeptically. "Oh really?" he asked, questioning the man's sincerity.

He nodded eagerly and said, "Oh yes! I'm all yours, whenever you need me! I have no problem for showing up for fittings at odd hours. You can even poke me with pins when you get angry at me or if I do something wrong!" Antonio seemed to rethink what he said and added, "Although, I'd prefer it if you didn't prick me. Still, you're the Boss man!"

The Italian studied the model before him carefully, mixed thoughts running through his head. Antonio was odd - offering himself up like that to an infamous designer well known for his temper – and certainly much too enthusiastic. Still, despite all the obvious reasons why Lovino shouldn't (and didn't) like him, he found himself unable to send the man away.

Without taking his eyes off of the model, Lovino held his hand out to Kiku. "Let me see his photos."

Expertly masking his surprise at the request, Kiku passed along the Spaniard's portfolio. Lovino never bothered looking at a model's photos until he was sure he could deal with them on a daily basis. The fact that temperament was the first thing Lovino looked for in a model must have said something about the designer's own personality.

Lovino coolly flipped through the photographs of Antonio. Some were better than others, but any flaws seemed to be the fault of the photographer; Antonio himself was all perfect poses and flawless expressions. Any excitement or surprise that Lovino felt was carefully stowed away behind an impassive mask.

"Kiku, tell everyone else on line to go home," Lovino said, not glancing up from his perusal of the photos. Antonio grinned and began thanking him profusely in both English and Spanish, while Kiku rushed off to inform the rest of the candidates that the interviews were over. Most went quietly, although a few complained loudly about the waste of time.

By this point, Lovino was standing, and he had just turned around to tell the whiners to shut the hell up when he felt something come at him from the side. He shrieked and brought up a fist when he realized that it was just his new model hugging him. His arms were wrapped tightly around Lovino's waist and the man exuded warmth as if he literally radiated sunshine. Lovino felt the heat rush straight to his cheeks.

"Get the fuck off of me!" he growled, trying to push the _slightly_ taller man away from him. He had his face turned away in a poor attempt to hide his reddened face and hoped that he could pass it off as just being flushed with rage. Because that's what it was. There was no other possibility. None. At. All.

"Aw, you're so red~" Antonio cooed. "You look so adorable like that! Are you sure I'm the model here?"

With a fierce glare, Lovino knocked the man on the head with his fist. "Shut the hell up and come with me to the studio," he grumbled. He was already walking quickly away, leaving Antonio to rub his sore skull and catch up on his own. Antonio slid into the elevator just before it shut, blissfully ignoring the way Lovino had rapidly been pressing the close button.

It was a few long minutes (during which Antonio smiled and rocked back and forth on his heels, while Lovino pointedly ignored him and glared at the wall) until the elevator reached their floor- the top floor, to be precise. It was a large building, but Lovino demanded the best view. Good scenery was one of many inspirations for an artist of any medium. However, this time, the Italian paid no mind to the extraordinary backdrop and instead focused on his new model.

"So, what would you like me to do?" Antonio inquired, curious as to what exactly his new job entailed. He had modeled for a view others before (including posing nude for his good friend Francis), but he had heard the rumors and knew that things were different with Lovino Vargas. This man demanded long hours with his models and made outfits specifically for and based off of them. It was a tad peculiar, but Antonio found it incredibly endearing. For such a cranky person, it was a sweet and sincere act.

Lovino sat down on a chic black chair and grabbed a notepad from the table amidst a pile of fabric scraps, buttons, colored pencils and a pair of scissors. He plucked a normal pencil from the table and shot the Spaniard a look. "Sit your ass down over there and just wait," he instructed.

"Alright!" Antonio complied, taking a seat in the appointed chair, which was placed directly across from Lovino and several feet back from the table. To provide him with a better view, he supposed. He sat there quietly for about thirty seconds before he leaned in and asked, "What exactly am I waiting for, Lovino?"

The designer responded with a growl.

Backing off, Antonio held up his hands in surrender. Lovino huffed and studied him, his hand hovering over the sketchpad. It stayed there, too, since for the following ten minutes, Lovino could do nothing but stare. He knew himself well enough to know that he couldn't just produce magic; it took time, and he had to get to know his model first. Nonetheless, every time Lovino attempted to converse with Antonio, he felt his face heat up and the words fight to stay lodged in his throat. He couldn't tell if he just didn't want to talk to the Spanish man or if he simply couldn't.

Perhaps sensing Lovino's struggle, Antonio was the one to strike up some small talk. "So, how come an excellent designer like you needs me anyway? There were lots of people there today, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were more people waiting on your doorstep every day!"

Lovino snorted. "Ha," he responded sarcastically. "You'd be surprised how many people are actually willing to work with me."

Antonio tilted his head to the side in an adorable expression of curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Lovino picked up a button and tossed it at Antonio's head, smiling to himself when it hit him directly in the middle of his forehead. "People don't want to put up with my bullshit. They say I'm too violent, or that I'm too angry or too loud." The Italian shrugged and tossed another button, asking flatly, "Isn't that clear to you by now, you idiot?"

Antonio was silent for a few moments, ignoring the various things Lovino threw at him, letting each one bounce off his head as he pondered the obviously rhetorical question. "Well, I think that some people just take things too seriously. Like your insults! I know you don't mean them, and when you get all irritated, it's actually kind of amusing," he said with a sweet smile.

Lovino stared at him incredulously for a moment before shaking his head and murmuring to himself in Italian. He focused on Antonio again and added, "My last model was nearly as bad as I was, so we got along like two tomatoes in a basket."

"Isn't the saying 'two peas in a pod'?"

"Well, I don't like peas! I like tomatoes, so don't you fucking question me, bastard."

Antonio made a sound that sounded like a hybrid between a squeal and a laugh that only females (and Feliks) should be capable of producing. "You like tomatoes? _Yo me encantan los tomates también!_" Antonio seemed immensely pleased by this one odd thing in common, although why Lovino could not understand.

"Anyway," Antonio continued, leaning back in his chair and somehow managing to get back on topic. Really, the man was so all over the place it would get Lovino dizzy. "If you two got along so well, then why did he leave?"

"He got together with a photographer that I can't stand. The guy's name is Alfred Jones," Lovino explained.

Antonio processed this information. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "Does that mean your last model was Arthur Kirkland?"

"No shit sherlock. Anyone who's anyone in this industry knew that already."

Looking away, Antonio frowned slightly and said, "Well, let's just say I try to avoid any mentions of him."

That grabbed Lovino's attention. What had happened between his former and current model that made the upbeat Spaniard so obviously want nothing to do with the famous Brit? He could ask, of course, but he didn't want to seem too interested; besides, he was trying to move away from ideas of Arthur. Were they competitors in the modeling field? No, then Antonio would keep tabs on what jobs Arthur takes so he could one up him- even he wasn't stupid enough not to. High school rivals? Maybe, but the chances of that were unlikely since they were both grown men by now. Perhaps they were exes who had a bad breakup?

Now _that _was an interesting idea. He wondered what their relationship was like. The thought made him slightly uncomfortable, but the more he pictured it, the more it played out in his head like a dramatic soap opera or chicks' romance novel. He could just see it now:

_Arthur was tied to the mast of a grandiose ship with a cloth stuffed into his mouth. Despite his defenseless position, his eyes glared with a fierce rebellion. All around him, a battle raged, clashing metal often landing uncomfortably close to him – and yet, not once did he flinch. He knew his salvation was coming soon, any moment now._

_That was when Antonio entered the scene, swinging in on one of the ropes nimbly landing on his feet. He stood tall and gallant, wielding a sword that gleamed in the sunlight. He made quick work of his foes, eager to reach his British lover. His sword sliced through the rope and warm hands removed the gag before wrapping themselves around the other man's waist, the wind blowing his hair back from his forehead-_

Lovino shook his head rapidly. He really needed to watch fewer movies with his brother. Glancing down at his sketchbook, he realized it wasn't as blank as it was before. He chuckled to himself, studying the sketch with interest and amusement.

"What's so funny, Lovino?" Antonio questioned, trying to lean in for a better look. "What did you draw?"

Slamming the book shut, Lovino shot him a rare smile. "This, my dear idiot, is your first Lovino Vargas design."

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**A/N- First chapter is long, I know T-T The rest of the fic has significantly shorter chapters, although I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not... Oh and this fic isn't going to go the way you all are probably expecting it- chronologically, I mean. What I am talking about, you ask? Well, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter to find out~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, here it is, chapter 2! I do apologize for Lovi's potty mouth. I know it may seem a bit much at times, but hey, at least he's not physically abusing someone every five minutes, right? ...Right? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. **

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This was it. The entire fashion industry was abuzz, and they were all gathered in the same room for the same reason. After waiting for an entire year, it was finally time for the big event.

Lovino Vargas's fashion show.

While his shows were always popular, none were as full as this one. Why? Because everyone from the snobbiest model to the designer's very own brother wanted to see what new designs he came up with for his current model, the star of the show: _Antonio. _It was very simple really, and anyone who had been to any of the Italian's shows knew how it worked: one man and a handful of trend-setting outfits, followed by a number of well-dressed women following the theme. This one was no different.

Backstage, people ran around, making finishing touches on outfits, Kiku was communicating with the lighting and music crews, security made sure no crazy fangirls or overzealous paparazzi made it backstage, and the great Lovino Vargas himself shouted orders over the chaos.

"Enrique! Help Miss Rima into her dress! Can somebody find the fucking castanets already?! I swear, Joey, if I see you eating another doughnut… Get your fat ass back to work, can't you see we're busy?!"

Whirling around, Lovino spotted his assistant and snapped, "Kiku! How are we with the music?"

"We are good to go, Mr. Vargas."

"_Bene." _Lovino replied, already walking away. In his haste, he didn't bother to correct Kiku's formal title for him, and instead focused on making sure everything went smoothly. He always felt the need for his work to be perfect, but he was particularly anxious about this show. It meant more to him in a way that none ever had before.

Consulting his clipboard, Lovino checked to make sure all preparations were in order. So far, so good-

"Oof!"

Lovino was yanked out of his intensely focused frame of mind by a collision with another body- a slightly larger and much warmer one.

"Ah, _lo siento,"_ Antonio said, his quick reflexes kicking in as he wrapped his arm around the Italian to keep him from falling. "I didn't mean to bump into you, Lovi. How do you feel?"

"Well, aside from your fat ass nearly knocking me over," Lovino scoffed with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. They both knew Antonio was as fit and well sculpted as ever. "I'm, well… frankly, I'm nervous as hell."

Pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead, Antonio gave him a sweet smile and said, "I'm positive it'll all end up wonderful, _querido_."

"How do you know?" Lovino grumbled.

"Because," Antonio murmured, leaning down to kiss him again, this time on the lips. "Because it's one of your shows, Lovi, of course it'll go well. You know what you're doing."

"Our show," Lovino corrected, making Antonio's smile widen. Lovino looked away, pretending not to notice the dreamy expression his simple statement had caused, even though it secretly pleased him that he had such an effect on the Spaniard.

"Right, our show. That only means that it's bound to be amazing. After all, you and I make a great team, don't we?"

"I suppose so," Lovino mumbled reluctantly. He allowed himself a few more moments in Antonio's embrace before he snapped back into work mode. Looking over his boyfriend, his eyes widened and he took a step away from him.

"_Why the hell aren't you dressed yet?!"_

Chuckling nervously, Antonio began to make his retreat towards his makeshift dressing room. "Ahaha, right, well, I guess we'll talk after the show! _Te quiero, Lovino!" _he cried, fleeing from the string of harsh expletives that followed. Lucky for him that Lovino had no unimportant blunt objects at hand because those would have been flung as well.

Lovino shook his head. When would that damn lovable idiot get his shit together? Still, he had to admit that his little interaction with the Spaniard had calmed him. Just a little.

"Five minutes," someone called out, and the words acted like a fast-forward button because those minutes rolled by faster than a spool of thread in Roderich's house. The man was the musician and composer helping with the show's music, but he could have been a tailor with the quick way he patched up clothes.

All too soon, Lovino heard the strum of a guitar- the opening sound to the music for his show. He had decided to include the instrument as soon as he heard the way Antonio's smooth, dexterous fingers had played it one day.

_Since the show was to be based off of Antonio, Lovino needed apt music for his model, too. After hearing that the Spanish man was fond of and respected guitar solos in music, Lovino considered the prominent use of a guitar in his show. After all, instruments were versatile in that a single one could add its unique touch to any piece of every genre. There was no doubt in his mind that a guitar could leave its mark in his fashion show. _

_Lovino searched high and low for a good guitarist. Kiku had brought in a multitude of hopefuls, but none of them seemed to fit. It was like his model hunt all over again- and once again, Antonio was the only solution that worked for Lovino._

"_Ugh, this is too damn frustrating," Lovino had groaned after another fruitless day of searching. Antonio was already in the studio when Lovino with that complaint on his lips, and he asked about it. Lovino explained his need for a great guitarist for the music in his show. _

"_Oh, is that all?" Antonio asked, smiling easily. Lovino bristled at such a remark. _

"_You say that like it's no big deal! This is serious business, you idiot!" he rebuked. _

"_I know it is, Lovino," Antonio replied, still totally composed. "I just meant that I can play the guitar, so I can help you!"_

_Lovino had already been prepared with a snappy retort, but his temper deflated at that. "You can?" he asked, blinking in surprise. He had known that Antonio liked the instrument, but he didn't know he could actually play it. That was surprising useful information- information that had been kept from him. _

"_Why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner, you dumbass? You could've saved me from wasting so much time like I've done all damn week!" _

_Antonio shrugged. "You never told me you needed one and you never asked if I played," he pointed out. Not wanting to recognize this truth, Lovino told him to stop being a smartass and demanded proof of Antonio's skill as a musician. _

"_Well, I don't have mi guitarra here, so unless you have one…?" Antonio said, looking around as if he expected one to magically turn up somewhere. And, knowing how ridiculous he could be at times, he probably did. _

_Instead of responding, Lovino walked off to another room and Antonio could hear the sound of a door being opened—a closet, perhaps?—and objects being carelessly dropped, or thrown, to the floor. After a few minutes and several loud curses from Lovino as something landed on his foot, the Italian returned triumphantly holding a simple tan guitar in his hands. _

"_Here ya go, bastard," he said, looking pleased with himself as he handed over the instrument._

"_Where did you get this? Why do you even have a guitar lying around here?" Antonio asked as he set about tuning the guitar. _

"_It's one of Feliciano's," Lovino explained. "The musically-inclined idiot also has a harmonica, keyboard, and a viola here. Oh and a tambourine, but that shit's mine now. I claimed that baby a long time ago."_

_Chuckling to himself, Antonio strummed the guitar a bit, testing the sound. "Hm…"_

_Before Lovino knew it, his model had already launched into a favorite Spanish tune. Lovino listened and watched in awe. _

_Antonio fingers glided and plucked gracefully at the strings, turning each chord into a caress and each note into a kiss of music. Lovino found himself hypnotized, watching the way Antonio's fingers moved and listening to the result of each touch as he did so. Then Antonio opened his mouth to sing and Lovino was lost, absolutely mesmerized._

_If Antonio voice's was like silk just speaking, then Lovino had no idea how to describe Antonio's voice as he sang. It was amazingly rich and smooth, like pure velvet that didn't fill the room, but wrapped around just him. If Lovino closed his eyes, just for a moment, then he felt as if he could lay back and curl up with the comforting sound, which somehow felt warmer than any quilt. He was so lost in the rapture of listening to Antonio, the experience that was his voice, that it took a minute to realize that the song was over._

_He peeked over at Antonio, who was watching him carefully. "Well," Antonio asked, giving him a sweetly nervous smile. "Did you like it?"_

_Lovino eyes widened. Like it? The emotion stirred up by Antonio's voice seemed to rush up and congeal in Lovino's burning cheeks. "It was… Just... You sounded… I… Dammit, we're putting that in the show."_

_Antonio laughed joyfully and gingerly set down the guitar next to him. "Que bueno!"_

_He smiled the entire time Lovino gave him instructions on what he needed to do, where he needed to go, and who he needed to meet up with in order to help with the music. For his part, Lovino scowled and tried not to stumble over his words, cursing the Spaniard for being able to have such an effect on him. _

Of course, the music would be an eclectic piece overall- bits and pieces of original measures woven through various popular songs along with fitting traditional ones tying the whole thing together.

The lights dimmed and the spotlights focused on the runway. Lovino could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest down to his stomach and back up to his throat where it remained lodged with nerves. This was it. The fruits of his experiences this past year with Antonio were about to be presented for hundreds of people to see. In the back of his mind, Lovino wondered if this could be counted as an invasion of privacy. He figured probably not since he was the one orchestrating the entire event anyway.

He could hear the eager applause as the show began. It died down into low, nearly inaudible chatter as the first model made her way onstage. Moving to stand beside Kiku, Lovino paid no mind to the crowd's responses, not yet anyway. He waited for Antonio to take the stage. When he heard the soft gasp of the audience, he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and watched intently as his sexy lover made his way down the runway, wearing the first design Lovino had ever made for him.

It was simple really. It consisted of a billowing white shirt that hung loose on Antonio's body with flowing sleeves that had almost unnoticeable ribbons that tightened around the wrist. Sleek black tights clung to his toned legs, but the long shirt, which was only partially buttoned, fell just past his pelvis in a teasing sort of way. Antonio had deliberately let his hair grow a bit longer than usual for the show, and it only added to the allure of the look: with the length of his shaggy hair and the puffy white shirt, he could have been the hero of a cliché romance/adventure novel.

Lovino called the look: _Fabio._

Antonio had laughed when he first told him the title, and to this day he still grinned whenever Lovino teasingly referred to him with that name. Finally relaxing a bit at the crowd's obviously positive response, Lovino rocked back on his heels and let out a soft sigh.

"Seems the show has finally begun."

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**So yeah... There you have it! Not what you were expecting, I'm sure, but I do hope you like it anyway! Please review to let me know what you think~! Reviews mean more glorious Spamano~ :D **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here you go, chapter 3~ I really like this one for some reason xD  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!  
**

**Warning: Watch out for Romano's f*cking potty mouth!  
**

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The show had opened with a magnificent start, and Lovino was determined to keep the ball rolling. A few female models were sent out and Antonio made his outfit change while the women strutted down the runway. They wore, of course, garments befitting the theme set by Antonio's first outfit _Fabio._

Pirate-esque outfits complete with cutlasses and gorgeous damsels in distress enticed the audience with the feeling of romance and adventure. The music made everyone feel as though they were about to start a grand voyage, an exploration into the unknown, with the promise of precious treasure in the process – and in fact, they were. Everyone was on their way into the story of Antonio and Lovino, something so precious and so rare of a gift, that the journey was the treasure in itself. While no one in the crowd was aware of this, they nevertheless watched and waited with wonder.

Lovino waved Antonio over to him once the Spaniard was ready. They waited hand in hand until it was time for Antonio to take the runway once more. Lovino let go of his lover, patted his shoulder and murmured, "Get out there and look pretty, my damn pedo bastard."

Antonio playfully pouted, but followed his directions all the same. He set the black fedora on his head, smirked, and stalked out. There was a unanimous gasp soon followed by murmured appreciation amongst the members of the crowd.

The handsome man wore black slacks, a crisp white shirt, along with a black tie and waistcoat. If that didn't make him look sleek enough, the long, dark trench coat he wore open over it all completed the look. The coat was adorned with buckles right around the lapel and gold buttons on the cuffs matching the ones of his waistcoat. A thick brown belt and fingerless leather gloves (to match his dark boots) were his only accessories. Every woman in the crowd swooned when he peered at them from under the hat with darkly alluring eyes. He had gone from attractive hero to seductive villain.

Backstage, Lovino chuckled at the response, remembering the day he came up with that outfit for Antonio and the joke behind it.

"_Ugh, I'm a designer, not a fucking babysitter, Feli," Lovino groaned into the phone. No way was his brother going to dump their little cousin on him. _

"_Ve, but Lovi, Marcello is famiglia!" _

"_I have things to do, Feliciano." Lovino said, leaning back in his chair. Sure, deep down, he loved his cousin and enjoyed spending time with him, but at the moment, he had better things to do than watch the kid. He needed to buy more fabric, not to mention the little necessities like buttons, pins, and thread. Then he had to do plain old grocery shopping because his kitchen was growing achingly bare and he did not approve. _

_The door opened and shut quietly and Lovino looked up to see Antonio enter the room. Antonio opened his mouth to greet him – loudly, no doubt – but Lovino glared and pointed at the cell phone he held by his ear, so the Spaniard settled for a smile, which Lovino returned with a well-aimed spool of thread. He continued his argument while Antonio rubbed his forehead. _

"_I told you no, dammit!"_

"_But, Loooooviiiiiiiiiii," his brother whined, dragging out the vowels in the most annoying fashion. _

_How the hell did his brother keep that up for so long? "Alright, alright, I'll watch Marcello; just shut the fuck up already!"_

"_Ve, really~? Yay! You're so nice, fratello" Feliciano squealed._

_Lovino scoffed and said, "Sometimes I think you're the real child, Feliciano, because Marcello isn't nearly as whiny as you." He turned so that his back was to Antonio and as such, he didn't notice the way the model perked up at his words. _

_After a few more minutes of talk, the brothers settled on the details and hung up. Lovino set his phone down with a sigh and spun back around in his chair to come face-to-face with a way too chipper Spaniard._

"_When do I get to meet him?" Antonio asked eagerly. _

"_What the hell are you talking about?" Lovino spluttered, trying to calm his racing pulse. Why was the bastard so damn close…?_

"_This Marcello kid!" Antonio exclaimed. He began firing off questions rapidly. "Is he a younger sibling? Nephew perhaps? What does he look like? Does he have a big curl, too? How old is he?" _

"_Gah! Shut up already!" Lovino clamped his hands over the Spaniard's mouth and locked eyes with him._

"_Listen to me, idiot. I'll answer your questions – but one at a freaking time, okay?"_

_Antonio nodded, his green eyes wide and twinkling. Lovino dropped his hands. They tingled where they had touched the Spaniard's lips._

"_First off, Marcello is my cousin. He looks like the rest of us. Yes, he has a curl thing; it runs in the family. No, you don't get to meet him."_

_Antonio pouted. "Why not?" he cried. _

"_Because I said so. Why do you want to meet him so badly anyway?" Lovino grumbled._

_Antonio beamed and said simply, "I love kids."_

_Lovino, who had just picked up a pencil to keep his hands busy (and not touch Antonio again), set the tool back down again. He gave the other man a long look before muttering, "Fucking pedophile."_

"_Huh?" Antonio looked hurt by this, and for a second, Lovino felt guilty for his harsh tongue. "That's a mean thing to say, Lovino. There are lots of people who love kids, you know." _

"_Whatever," Lovino said dismissively._

_Antonio persisted. "After all, they're such innocent little things-" He ignored Lovino's scoff and continued, "who are adorably honest and sweet, not to mention, they always manage to put a smile on my face, no matter how I'm feeling. They view things in a way that adults can never seem to see and live in their own worlds. They're just a breath a fresh air. Plus, no one can resist the giggle of a toddler or the smile of a shy little kid."  
_

_Lovino couldn't hide his surprise. The words were so sincere and even he couldn't help but notice the thoughtfully honest way Antonio voiced his opinion. He opened his mouth to make amends for his former remark when Antonio continued, saying,_

"_Plus, they're so much fun to play with; I don't see why no one understands that! Every time I'm at a park and start playing with some of them- you know, chasing them around, helping them on the monkey bars- people get mad at me; parents storm up and take their kids away, or just shoot me dirty looks. It's very rude, you know, especially since the kids seemed to be having so much fun with me!"  
_

_Lovino blinked and all thoughts of apologies fled his mind. "Put away your trench coat and park the white van, you fucking pedo. Good thing Marcello isn't a toddler anyway; he's fourteen. You can't lure him in with candy or lost puppies." He paused and added, "Well, I guess cute girls and video games would work."_

_Antonio shrugged, obviously irked with Lovino's child-molester jokes. "I'm sure he and I will still get along just fine. And I'm not a pedophile, Lovino. There is only one person I'm attracted to, and he certainly isn't a little kid," he said, gazing at him intensely; no matter how much Lovino searched, those green eyes cloaked any idea as to the identity of this person. _

_There he goes again… Did he mean Arthur? Lovino thought. Is this another clue as to their past? He shook his head. It's not like he really cared anyway. Not at all. He picked up his pencil and began some rough sketches as a means to distract himself. _

"_Hey, what time is Marcello coming here?"_

"_In about an hour or two," Lovino murmured, slowly becoming absorbed by his work. He began mumbling to himself about lengths and colors as he went. Antonio noticed this and decided to move to the other side of the room so as not to disturb him. From there he watched the designer out of the corner of his eye. _

_Time flew and before he knew it, his brother was calling him so that he could go downstairs to pick up Marcello. He set down his pencil with a satisfied feeling. He was just about done with his work. As he headed to the door, he stopped halfway and called to Antonio, "Well, aren't you coming? I don't have all day." He turned back to the door to hide his smile as he went on ahead, knowing Antonio wouldn't be far behind._

_Antonio gained two new nicknames that day. One was "pedo bastard," which he really wasn't fond of – coined by Lovino, of course. But the other one was given to him by Marcello, and it made Antonio smile every time he heard it: Zio Tony._

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**So there you have it, folks~ What did you think? As always, please tell me in a review~ :D **_  
_

**Oh and here you can find the outfit I based Antonio's off of in this chapter: blazblue. wikia/ wiki/ Hazama - That guy right there is my favorite troll ever! Next to Izaya~ xD  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this took so long, guys! Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy~  
**

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Needless to say, the following models wore just as darkly tempting as Antonio himself had been. Superb gowns, luxurious capes, and simply elegant hats took the spotlight for a while, further drawing in the audience to Lovino's spell. He planned to entice them in, make them fall deeper and deeper every step of the way, just as he had.

The next outfit – and with it, the next theme – would be starkly different from the currently intense mood. Still, that was what Lovino wanted. His time with Antonio had been filled with ups, downs, and random surprises; he fell in love with every great, odd portion just as much as each simple and unpretentious moment. His crowd would do the same.

Antonio took his time with this change. He slipped on his new clothes as if he were getting dressed any other morning. He was calm, cool, relaxed- already the perfect frame of mind for this next set. Once again, he waited with Lovino until it was time for him to make another appearance.

He wore a green turtleneck that had sleeves stopping just past his shoulders, and a chocolate-colored vest over it. With this, he had on coffee toned cargo pants and slick green sneakers. When he brought up his hand to run it through his hair, one could see that he wore a white and green checkered wristband.

It was a purposely casual design, but what no one but the designer knew was that the story behind it was far from it. The haughty look on Antonio's face as he made his way down the runway was a reminder of that intense afternoon.

_Antonio had shown up at the studio one day dressed… oddly. No, it wasn't odd, just… different, very different. _

_Lovino stared for a moment or two as his mind tried to process the sight before him. "Uh, you do know it's warm outside, right?"_

"_Yep~" Antonio chirped, playing with the sleeves of his shirt, which reached his wrist. If that alone wasn't a mindfuck (Lovino had never seen the Spaniard in anything but short-sleeves), another particular detail about his outfit was. _

"_Then why the hell are you wearing a turtleneck?" _

_Antonio grinned widely; he was obviously happy with his choice of top. He said, "I'm running out of clean clothes, but that's okay because I love turtlenecks~!"_

_Lovino couldn't help but ask why._

"_Because it makes me feel cozy and like a turtle, which is one of my favorite animals," Antonio explained, wiggling around as if to emphasize how comfy he felt. Lovino shook his head. _

"_Out of all the animals," he sighed, "you like turtles? Why couldn't you pick something badass like a lion or a bear or some shit?"_

"_Well, if you want to go by fierceness, I do like bulls," Antonio mused. "Still, turtles are just so cute! I kept one as a pet in high school."_

"_Really?" Lovino asked, his interest suddenly piqued. The idea of what Antonio was like in high school abruptly shifted to central focus in his mind._

"_Mhm! I would come home right after school every single day to make sure mi pequeñotortuga was properly fed."_

_Lovino snorted. "So does that mean you were some dork who never left the house then?" he teased. _

"_Oh, not at all!" Antonio exclaimed, looking almost offended by the suggestion. "As soon as little Pepe was fed, I'd head out to the skate park or the pizza parlor or something with my best friends."_

"_Skate park? Wait, you were a skater?" Lovino couldn't help but laugh. To his surprise, Antonio smirked and said, _

"_Claro que s í! I wasn't too bad at it either. Gil and I had skateboards, and Francis had roller blades. We gained a little reputation in our town amongst the other teenagers, too."_

_Lovino raised an eyebrow quizzically and asked, "Oh really?" _

"_Mhm~ They called us the Bad Touch Trio because of all the pranks we'd play. They said everything we touched ended all torn up or ruined." Antonio laughed heartily at the memory. "We really weren't that bad actually. It was mainly Gilbert that got us that name. Well, that and Francis's flirting… he said his touch wasn't bad at all, but it only helped add to the name, you know?"_

_At that, Lovino shuddered. Temporarily putting aside his disgust in lieu of curiosity, he asked, "Well, come on, bastard, you must have contributed somehow! What was your bad touch?"_

_The Spaniard thought about it for a few moments. "I guess I'd say it was because I was a bit of a heartbreaker back then."_

"_Like that perverted bastard?"_

_Antonio shook his head; his face had become unusually solemn for once. "No, with Francis things were solely physical. I broke hearts. I'm naturally an affectionate person, and I was friendly to everyone, but sometimes I'd be a bit too sweet, get a bit too close… And after leading them on for a while, I'd break things off rather than enter a serious relationship."_

_Lovino blinked a few times for the rapid shift in the conversation threw him for a loop. He struggled to calm the way his heart thudding painfully and erratically in his chest. That's pretty damn harsh…" he mumbled. "And coming from me, that says a lot." _

_He didn't like that bit of information. For some reason he had just assumed that Antonio had always been kind, sensitive, and cheerful. The idea that Antonio was once cruel enough to mess with people's feelings, to think that he could ever have been so careless in matters of the heart… it honestly made his chest ache._

"_I wasn't exactly a nice person back then," Antonio explained, looking at the Italian with a somber, penitent expression. "At least, I wasn't when it came to stuff like that. I lost count of how many people I hurt. Shallow teens and shy girls, indifferent guys and emotionally attached boys- one after another, I broke them all down. Eventually, the guilt got to me… I mean, only someone totally heartless can see that many people crying without being affected, and I certainly wasn't heartless; I was just… insensitive. It tore me up inside… It took a little while, but I finally changed into what you see now." He shrugged, as if his current state wasn't all that great either._

"_Did you feel anything for the people you hurt?" Lovino asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure if he even really wanted to know the answer. "Romantically, I mean."_

_Antonio looked pensive for a few minutes, during which Lovino silently studied this new expression on the Spaniard's face. He knew he should have just dropped the subject once things got a little too deep, but he couldn't help himself; for some reason, he was anxious to know more. He jumped when Antonio spoke up again. _

"_I suppose in a way I did," he said slowly, as though testing out the truth of the statement on his tongue. "But it was nothing compared to what I knew they felt for me. I liked them and romance was just something that came easy to me, so a lot of the time I confused 'like' and 'love.' There was a point when I thought I loved them all. Now I know better. It took a while, but… I think I'm finally beginning to understand what it really means to love someone, Lovino."_

_Lovino swallowed a lump in his throat. "Really?" he croaked. He refused to think. He refused to let his thoughts travel. More than anything, he refused to acknowledge the meaningful way Antonio stared at him- the same way he refused to acknowledge the sudden fire in his chest and cheeks. _

_Antonio nodded. "Do you know that there are technically two ways to say "to love" in Spanish? There's querer y amar. I never realized before that I had only ever been queriendo those people. Querer, to want, to love… but not as much as amar. That word is saved for one special person."_

_Lovino's ears rang with the words. He began to hate the conversation with every second that ticked by and made him more frazzled, yet he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is your special person?" A part of him wondered if it was a certain British man, but from within that pain arose the hope that it was not in fact Arthur, and was perhaps… someone else. _

_Here Antonio finally smiled, but it was a tender, almost bittersweet smile. For some reason, it made Lovino's heart stutter and race wildly. "Don't worry about it, Lovi," he said with false reassurance. "I'll tell you someday, but not yet. If you really want to know, you'll just have to be patient."_

_Lovino took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. What had he been expecting to hear? Or rather, what was it that he wanted to hear? "We both know I'm the most patient man ever!" There, sarcasm- that was familiar ground; he could get back on his own feet from there. _

_To his immense relief, Antonio chuckled. "Right," he agreed._

_Lovino took a glance at his watch. It was still too early for Antonio to go home, but he didn't care. He needed space. "Time for you to get out of here," he told Antonio. _

_The Spaniard looked confused. "But it's not-"_

_Lovino cut him off, saying, "Just go dammit! I'm giving you the rest of the day off, so you better fucking enjoy it since I don't do that shit often. Leave and come back tomorrow at the usual time."_

_For a second Antonio looked as if he'd argue, but he didn't. Perhaps he knew that their conversation had been too intimate to recover from right away. Either way, he nodded and turned to leave. "Adios, Lovi," he called over his shoulder. He shot him once last smile before finally going. The Italian man sighed and slumped in his chair. He really needed a break, but he had work to do. Besides, it would help keep him from thinking too much about what he had just learned about his model. _

_He didn't know how long he sat as his desk, trying to work on designs and finish odd bits of paperwork, but sometime during all that, he had fallen asleep with one word on his lips, "…amore…"_

_As Lovino remained sleeping at his desk, he dreamt of turtles on skateboards and flying baskets of vivid tomatoes. And green, green everywhere. When he awoke, rubbing his sore cheek and muttering to himself, he glanced down and noticed that his empty page now had another fully worked out design for Antonio. He shut it closed without another glance._

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**As always, let me know what you think in a review! Please and thank you~  
**


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